


south park one shots!!

by caelescherries



Category: South Park
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelescherries/pseuds/caelescherries
Summary: okay basically this is just a plethora of one shots bc i dont feel like re making things every fuckin time. but yeah i think it's really fun and these are some random stuffs so plz enjoy my terrible writing lmao.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Bebe Stevens, Kenny McCormick/Craig Tucker, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Phillip "Pip" Pirrip/Damien Thorn, Stan Marsh/Craig Tucker, Token Black/Clyde Donovan
Kudos: 24





	south park one shots!!

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw plz dont be mean but plz do give feedback! there are ways to give criticism without beung a dick.

warning! this is circa april of 2019!! this!! is!! not!! too!! good!! i just want to post it to make this have contents lmao. anyways as the chapters go on they'll become more and more recent until i get to the point where they're just coming out as i write them!! that's all, have a lovely day and enjoy!! 

My name is Philip Pirrup, but everyone calls me Pip because they hate me. I'm not sure where the cruel nickname came from, especially since its not a particularly insulting name, and it's not very creative. However, I suppose the children of South Park are not very creative. Their way of insults consist of calling a Jewish boy 'Jew', a boy named Leopold 'Butters' [a name which I hear means ugly in some old language or another], and asking a Mexican boy if he rides his little 'bicicleta' to school every day. Racist, but not creative. 

I guess the reason I'm such a misfit in the town of South Park is because I wasn't born here the way it seems almost everyone else was. I've lived here for the majority of my life, yes, but that doesn't really appear to be good enough for them. I don't really mind too much though. I'm not too sure if I'd want to fit in in South Park. Everyone is so rude and disrespectful to one another, but they still have the nerve to call one another friends. It's all a very confusing process from the outside looking in.

I don't have very many friends in South Park, but to be fair, I didn't have very many friends in England, where I came from, either. I did have this one particularly special girl, but I don't think she liked me much. People are odd in the way that they always like to lead me on, then drop the whole thing. Strange. 

I'm an orphan. My parents died when I was really young, apparently, I obviously don't remember. I'm supposed to be in an orphanage, technically, because I'm only sixteen and a half, but South Park is apparently very lenient on rules, because I've been living by myself since third grade. Of course, in the summers I have to attend school because I don't have a guardian to watch me, but I at least have a whole house to myself, which is cool. I'm not sure if it's legal, because I don't pay rent or anything, but Mrs. Mayor lady says they have it under control, and I know better than to question it.

The house that I live in is allegedly very old. I don't know because obviously I haven't been here too long, but rumors say that it'd haunted. It's probable that the other kids are just trying to scare me by saying this, but I still thought it would be intruiging to test this whole thing out. This one fat boy named Eric Cartman told me that the best way to talk to spirits was with a Oujia board. 

After intensive research on the thing, they're apparently little board games used to contact the dead. They allegedly work, well, according to YouTube at least. It wasn't hard to find one, they had them at a toy store right on the corner at the end of the shops and stuff. That was my first sign that it probably wasn't going to work. If a kid could buy it for a little bit under fifteen dollars, it couldn't be too efficient. Despite this, I hoped for the best, paid my thirteen nintry nine plus tax, and took my Oujia board home.

\---

I got candles. Those really big long candles that they always use in seances in horror movies. I got red ones instead of the white ones, they just gave me a more spooky vibe. I assumed they'd be the scariest part of this whole ordeal. I decided I wouldn't be disappointed no matter what. I think that I'd rather there be no result. I don't want no weird ghosts or demons haunting me because I played with a stupid board game. 

I waited until 3am, because that's supposed to be the witching hour. When all the ghosts and demons and ghouls were out to torment children who were up past their bedtime. Children like me. I struck a match, letting the flame burn for a moment before putting it against the candle wick. I kept it there till my fingers started to burn, then I shook it to put it out. It burnt a bit, but the heat felt nice against my fingers. I repeated the process twice more with each of my other candles before finally staring at the planchette that sat untouched in the center of the board. 

Well, as they say, it's now or never. My hands shakily made their way to the planchette, my slender fingers touching it lightly. Light enough that I certain couldn't move it.

It was almost exhilarating, if I was fully honest. I don't know what it was about being so far out of my comfort zone, but I felt great. I knew there'd be nothing, but I still felt nervous. Despite the anxiety eating at my stomach, I inhaled deeply, then braced myself. 

"Is there any spirits here?" I inquired somewhat hesitantly. A chill went my spine, causing me to shiver slightly as I glanced around the dimly lit room. No way, this was in my head. There's no such thing as ghosts, or spirits, or demons. Shifting my attention away from the imaginary ghosts in the corner, I focused on the planchette. The planchette that was slowly moving between letters. I missed the first letter, from the looks of it, but the last four letters were 'itch'. Huh, that seems a lot like a certain 'b' word.

"Hey, what the hell?" Must I get verbally abused by everyone, even demons? Jesus, would it kill to have a nice day for once in my whole life? I took my fingers off the planchette, rolling my eyes. I realized that there was no real demons and I was just abusing myself. I was set on believing this, I really was.

I pulled the box from under my bed where it'd been stored under my bed, but when I turned back I was met with a rather pallid face and bright red eyes. A shriek came from my mouth, one I didn't even recognize as my own. It sounded rather feminine, to be honest, and I'm quite glad that it was only heard between me and him. Holy crap, no way. This couldn't be happening. There's no way, right? Wrong.

"I've been watching you for some time." The demon stated, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. He looked like he was my age, in full honesty, but he looked about a million time worse. He had dark bags under his eyes, which contrasted with his extremely pale face. His red eyes practically had flames bouncing in them. He also had really bushy black eyebrows, which matched his horribly cut hair. Yikes, it was actually pretty bad. I almost pitied him. It looked like a blind barber cut his hair with those wavy scissors that barely cut paper. 

Unsure of what to say, I said the first thing that came to my head. "That's creepy." It wasn't another scream, and it wasn't anything that a normal person would say, like 'what the fuck' or 'Get the hell out of my house'. Nope, just 'thats creepy'. 

"No one likes you. You're rather interesting." He stated, tilting his head slightly. I could feel his eyes scanning up and down my body, which sorta creeped me out, to be honest. I tried to do the same thing, but I realized that the rest of his body was out of my line of sight. It was like he was laying down in mid air. Oh, cool. He really was a demon. In my house. In my bedroom. Wait, in my bedroom. 

"Yeah, I know, that's why they call me Pip. Are you going to leave, or would you like a spot of tea?" I inquired, surprised with how calm I seemed. I was definitely freaking out on the inside because holy shit a demon was in my bedroom and I didn't know how to get rid of it. 

The demon seemed just as surprised as I felt. Maybe he'd never been offered tea before. "Why do you say 'a spot of tea'? It's a cup, you idiot." Ouch. He was a mean demon. I guess that maybe thats how demons generally behaved. I couldn't imagine hell would be a delightful place and I would probably be pretty cranky as well. 

"I do suppose you're correct. Well, would you like a cup of tea then?" I offered, standing up and stretching my legs out. This was actually a lot easier as I was going along. I was totally chill and the demon really wasn't trying to be aggressive or anything, just kinda rude. Like, my feelings were hurt, but not my body. No complaints. 

The demon agreed, and we just sat down for tea. It was suprisingly peaceful. There was the occasional comment about how I was lame, and naturally I got called Pip, rather than Philip, but honestly, it was the best conversation I'd had in a long time. I guess that's the story of how I became friends with a demon. Weird how shit works


End file.
